


Seven Days in the South of France

by Arkeiryn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: Epilogue Compliant, M/M, Post - Deathly Hallows, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkeiryn/pseuds/Arkeiryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter didn’t think that his fortieth year would start with sunbathing in the small wizarding resort of Les Sorcières on the south coast of France. And he certainly didn't expect to see anyone there he recognised. Widowed!Harry, set after the end of The Epilogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Days in the South of France

**Author's Note:**

> Written back in 2008, and has been elsewhere on the internet before, but I have decided to put it here (with a few minor alterations). Un-beta'd, as my younger self was too scared to ask anyone to beta her work ^_^"

Day 1

  
  


Harry Potter didn’t think that his fortieth year would start with sunbathing in the small wizarding resort of _Les Sorcières_ on the south coast of France. Hermione had forced him to go, thrusting four international Portkey tickets into his hands, waving a travel catalogue in his face and telling him he had two days to pack. She’d told his children beforehand, of course, and when he tried to cancel, they whined at him until he gave in and said that they could go.

(He wouldn’t have been able to return the tickets anyway, he found out later. Lily told him that Al had hidden them from him, “sneaky Slytherin that he is.”)

So that was how he found himself on a sun lounger – which okay, was ridiculously comfortable – staring out into the marina full of luxury yachts. The children were in the large pool at the back of the villa, and Harry had to admit, Hermione had good taste when it came to choosing holiday destinations, and he’d lowered the privacy spells around the sun deck and small pool at the front of the villa so he could watch the patterns the sunlight made on the sea more clearly.

The villa on his left was completely silent, and Harry knew this to be because the people staying there were rich and young and only here for the partying, so they’d be asleep round about now – he’d met them going to bed when he’d arrived at some god forsaken hour of the morning. However, when he followed a gull flying to his right with his eyes, he saw something he didn’t expect. The villa on the right also didn’t have the privacy spells up over the front, and Harry could see quite clearly the current resident lounging, apparently asleep, on one of the sun loungers. He was lying on his front, long and slender, his body lightly tanned and perfectly toned and indicating that he was somewhere in his twenties. Harry found his eyes wondering over that body and forced himself to turn back to the sea.

_Stop ogling other people,_ he chastised himself. _What would Ginny think if she could see you now?_

_She’d probably tell you to move on with your life,_ another part of his mind said. Harry scowled. _Anyway, it could just be a holiday fling._

_But I don’t want a holiday fling! I want Ginny back!_

Ginny... She’d been so wonderful to him. The sight of the man lounging to his right brought back memories of when they’d had their first major row. Harry had gone to a bar, got drunk and had woken up in bed with another man with very clear memories of what he’d done that night and no revulsion whatsoever. He’d told Ginny all about it when they made up, of course, and she... she had accepted him for who he was, even the fact that he suddenly seemed to be attracted to men as well as women.

_Although it wasn’t sudden, was it? Remember those dreams, about Seamus, and Oliver Wood, and even_ Malfoy _, stuck up prat that he was_.

Harry shook his head. He didn’t even want to know why his subconscious was trying to taunt him with memories of dreams from the distant past. It wasn’t like he was trying to suppress that side of him any more.

He heard a noise next to him. Turning his head slightly, he saw that the man had turned onto his back now. Harry could just about see his smile, brilliant in the sunlight. His face was smooth and only slightly creased, but the slightly receding hairline told Harry that the man was probably at least ten years older than he had at first thought. He had a striking face, not attractive in the normal sense, but compelling and aristocratic… and strangely familiar. However, it was only when Harry allowed his eyes to wonder from that face to the large expanse of bare chest that he realised exactly _why_ this face was so familiar.

“ _Sectumsempra_ _!”_

_Blood spurted from Malfoy’s face and chest although he’d been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backwards and collapsed on to the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling limp from his right hand._

“Malfoy,” he whispered to himself, staring at the scars across that smooth golden chest. Then the realisation that he had been checking out _Malfoy_ , of all people, hit him, and he turned back to look steadfastly at the marina, his face aflame.

_How did he even manage to get a tan anyway?_ he found himself thinking. _He was always so pale at school._ He wondered whether he should say something to him. They’d been civil enough whenever they’d had to attend Ministry functions together – Harry wasn’t entirely sure what it was that Malfoy did, but he suspected he was working in the Department of Mysteries – but they’d never met outside of the Ministry, apart from seeing each other on Platform 9¾, and Harry had no real idea what to do.

As it turned out, though, Harry didn’t have to do anything. As he was musing, he heard more movements beside him. Turning his head subconsciously, his eyes locked onto startled grey ones. However, the surprise in those eyes turned into… well, not exactly friendliness or warmth, but not hostility either.

“Hello, Potter,” Malfoy drawled. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Me neither,” Harry found himself saying.

“Well, see you around.” Harry nodded dumbly as Malfoy headed back into his villa, reactivating the privacy spells as he went.

_Well, that was… unexpected._

  
  


Day 2

  
  


The next day Harry seriously didn’t think that he would be seeing Malfoy again. After all, he’d been woken up by three hyperactive teenagers demanding to go to the beach, and they’d dragged him out of the house and to the Portkey hub to catch one to the small, secluded bay that belonged to _Les Sorcières._ Now they were bathing in the sea, laughing with each other, and Harry watched them with a smile on his face. It was a moment before he realised that there was someone else with them – a tall, white blond someone.

“Morning Potter,” came a familiar drawl from behind him, and Harry tore his eyes away from the blond child to his father.

“Morning, Malfoy,” he replied, slightly bemused.

“I was thinking,” Malfoy said as he lay out his beach towel and settled down on it, “that we should start being on more friendly terms since your son and mine are now friends.”

_Because it’s not like they haven’t been friends for three years already,_ a part of Harry thought. Instead of saying that, however, he just nodded.

“I was sorry to hear about your wife, by the way.”

Harry fought his rising anger. “Don’t pretend you feel something you don’t, just for the sake of civility. I expected more of you.”

“Potter, this may come as a surprise to you, but I _am_ sorry for her death. She was a good witch and a good Quidditch player, and quite attractive with it.” Harry shot him a sideways glance, wondering whether Malfoy had a thing for Ginny when he was younger as well as Zabini.

“But you didn’t know her,” he said.

“No, I didn’t.”

“She was wonderful.” Harry felt the tears threaten to return to his eyes. _It’s only been two years. Twenty-three months. It seems like only yesterday you died, Gin. Only yesterday._

“I think we’re obsessing on the morbid, here,” Malfoy’s voice interrupted. But talking about Ginny had made Harry realise something.

“Malfoy,” he asked, “where’s _your_ wife?”

“Asty? She’s taken the yacht for a week. We have an agreement of sorts.”

“Asty?” Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering whether Astoria Malfoy answered to that in public.

“I don’t call her that to her _face_ , Potter. I do want to keep everything intact, you know.” Malfoy lay back on his towel – _green and silver, Slytherin colours, should’ve known_ – and closed his eyes.

“What sort of agreement?”

Malfoy opened one eye for the brief time it took to look at Harry with contempt. To Harry’s surprise, he didn’t find it made him want to punch Malfoy in the face, and wondered briefly if the children had dropped something in his tea that morning. “What sort of agreement do you think, Potter? Not all of the Malfoys have been as happily married as my parents were. Even then, my father... well, he had a slight obsession with canes and phallic symbols.”

Harry choked. _Merlin, I’ll never be able to think of Lucius Malfoy in the same way._ “You’re gay then?” he asked when he’d recovered.

“It’s a family trait, I think. Many heads of the family have had young male friends,” and Malfoy’s suggestive eyebrows told Harry _exactly_ what he meant by that, even with his eyes shut, “not to mention their spouses. I think my great grandfather and his wife actually shared.”

Harry tried not to choke again and was glad that he wasn’t drinking anything. “And you?” he found himself asking.

“No. I have quite enough to handle with my son.”

This time, Harry really did choke, and started spluttering too. “What?” he gasped.

“Potter, what the... Oh. _Oh!_ Potter, I am not that sick!” Malfoy had opened his eyes when Harry had started spluttering, and now he rolled them contemptuously. “That’s just wrong, wrong, sick and wrong.”

“And why Hyperion anyway?” Harry asked when he’d recovered.

“What?”

“Scorpius’ middle name.”

“I’m surprised you know it, Potter.” Malfoy closed his eyes and titled back his head, smiling at the sun. “Asty chose his name. Apparently it was the name of her favourite teddy when she was younger. I wanted him to go without, like me, but she insisted.” His smile turned into a smirk. “And I could ask the same from you. Lily Luna sounds like a Muggle music star, and Albus Severus makes your son sound older than you. James Sirius isn’t _too_ bad, I suppose.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “So Scorpius was your idea, then?”

“Hey, it’s a Malfoy name.”

“What, the Malfoy’s have a book? ‘The Big Book of Malfoy Names’?”

“’Names Suited for Those of Malfoy Blood’, actually.”

“What? I was joking!”

“I wasn’t. Is that it for the questioning, Potter? Can I sunbathe now?”

Harry waited until Malfoy was looking at him again before he grinned. “No. How come you tan?”

“Been checking me out Potter?”

“No!” Harry coughed and Malfoy’s eyebrows raised yet again. “I just thought you’d burn, that’s all,” he said hurriedly.

“I do, unless I use ludicrous amount of sun tanning charms.” Malfoy frowned. “And if you ever repeat that to Weasley, I’ll hex you.”

“Whatever, Malfoy.” Harry grinned and lay back onto his own towel, closing his eyes.

  
  


Day 3

  
  


Stepping out of the door of his villa, Harry was surprised to see Malfoy and Scorpius waiting there, bags in hand. He turned suspiciously to Al, who had a look of complete innocence on his face that spoke volumes about his guilt. “I thought we were going to the water park,” he said.

“We are,” Malfoy said from behind him. “Scorpius insisted that Al had invited us, but if you don’t want us to go...”

“No,” Harry said, turning his head. “I don’t mind you coming. It’s just... well, Al, you could’ve asked.”

“And risk you saying no? Dad, you _hate_ Mr Malfoy.”

“There are many things you don’t know about me, son, and one of those things is that I don’t _hate_ Malfoy, and haven’t for years.”

“But Uncle Ron...”

“Is a Weasley, and therefore prejudiced when it comes to those wondrous beings called Malfoys.” Malfoy smirked as he said this, a smile in his eyes, and Harry rolled his own eyes. “Are you coming then? The Portkey leaves in half an hour.”

“Fine.” That was how Harry found himself sitting in a Jacuzzi with Malfoy, watching their children playing on the slides and in the pools and drinking bubbly, non-alcoholic drinks... and definitely _not_ watching how the play of the light on the water made Malfoy look quite ethereal. Malfoy himself was lying back against the padded sides of the Jacuzzi, eyes closed in bliss.

“Malfoy, why did you drag me into the Jacuzzi?” Harry asked after a while. One grey eye revealed itself lazily and Malfoy yawned.

“Potter, we’re forty years old. I for one was not planning on behaving like a hormonal teenager and shooting down slides screaming.”

“Have you ever even been to a water park before?”

“Of course I have.”

Harry smiled. “I remember the first time I went to a magical one. I didn’t expect it at all. I thought it would be like the Muggle version.”

“Don’t the Muggles have slides, then?”

“Oh, they do. They have slides and fountains and wave machines and all sorts. But I have yet to hear of a Muggle water park with dragon-heated water, or with sea serpents in some of the pools and plimpys in others, or with gillyweed available on request, or where you can ride Hippocampi, or...”

“I get the picture, Potter.”

“You can ride dolphins in some places, though,” Harry added. “I always wanted to ride a dolphin.”

“Just because you’re forty, doesn’t mean you’re too old to ride a dolphin all of a sudden.”

“It doesn’t mean you’re too old to go down the slides all of a sudden, either.” Harry smiled as Malfoy opened both his eyes and raised his eyebrows.

“Fine!” he said suddenly. “ _One_ slide, and one slide only, and then I am coming back here to sit in _comfort_ and _relax_.”

“Sure.” Harry dragged Malfoy to his feet and led him to the lift that took them to the tallest slide in the whole place. Malfoy didn’t register which slide they were going on until he was at the top, where his grip on arryHHarry’s arm became vice-like.

“Is this a bad time to mention that I’ve never been on a water slide before? Harry turned to see that his face had gone deathly pale.

“I thought you had been to a water park before,” he said.

“I have.” Malfoy swallowed. “I just never went on the slides. Crabbe and Goyle were always too scared, and Pansy and Blaise said that diving was more fun, so I never had a chance, and now...”

Harry suddenly felt protective of Malfoy, which was stupid, considering that they were both forty. “It’ll be fine,” he said soothingly. “You’ll have fun.”

“It’ll kill me.” Malfoy closed his eyes.

“We can go on a smaller slide, or back to the Jacuzzi, if you want to.” Those grey eyes shot open again.

“No.” He swallowed again. “No,” he said more forcefully. “I will do this.” He strode to the slide and turned to give Harry one last look. “Wish me luck.” His smile wasn’t quite steady, but it was there as he stepped into the hole that was the top of the slide. Harry was surprised that he didn’t even scream, considering how scared Malfoy had been, and followed suit.

When he got to the bottom, Malfoy was treading water not too far away. The water had messed up his hair and had got into his eyes, but he was laughing as Harry swam towards him.

“That was fantastic!” Malfoy said with a laugh, and almost swallowed some water, but he didn’t seem to care – and it wasn’t like the water was full of strange Muggle chemicals anyway. “Let’s do that again!”

Harry laughed too, and they tried every single slide in the place, and when they finally got back to the villa that evening, Malfoy fell asleep on Harry’s shoulder as they were watching the Quidditch on the TV – _and isn’t it strange how many Muggle things have found themselves in wizarding culture since the war_ – and Harry refused to think about how nice it felt, but just concentrated on the scores.

  
  


Day 4

  
  


Malfoy didn’t appear all day, and Harry was rather worried. He’d come to expect Malfoy to appear at least _once_ during the day, to torment him or something, and the appearance of Scorpius _sans_ father half way through the day, when they had just gone back to the villa to get a bite to eat, made Harry worry even more.

_If something was wrong, though, Scorpius wouldn’t be hanging around with us. If something was wrong, he wouldn’t be around at all._ He tried to let those thoughts sustain him, but he couldn’t. He still couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Malfoy. The only thing that stopped him from asking Scorpius the whereabouts of his father was the feeling that Malfoy would laugh at him if he found out and the embarrassment that would undoubtedly ensue from the neediness in the request. Malfoy would be around tomorrow. He would just have to wait.

He didn’t have to wait until tomorrow, though. He was sitting outside in the darkness, watching the stars and thinking that it was about time that he went to bed too, when he heard a familiar drawl:

“Been waiting up for me, Potter?”

“You wish, Malfoy.” His curiosity got the better of him, though, as he turned to see Malfoy approach their villas. “Where _have_ you been?”

“Asty came back last night saying that the yacht was broken. I’ve spent most of the day trying to fix it. I blame her bit on the side.”

“Oh.” So Malfoy hadn’t been in trouble or anything, and Harry certainly did _not_ feel relieved at that. “I could’ve helped.”

Even in the darkness, he could sense Malfoy’s surprise. “I thought you would be busy all day,” he said.

“We’d probably have got it done in half the time and you could’ve spent time with Scorpius instead of working all day.”

“Well, thanks, Potter. Next time some good-for-nothing toy-boy breaks my boat, I’ll give you a call.” He started to say something else, but his speech was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn. Harry frowned.

“You need to go to bed.”

“Why, Potter, I never knew you felt that way!”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said, and was glad that it was dark. Although he wasn’t blushing. No, he wasn’t. Just if he had been, it was dark, so Malfoy wouldn’t have been able to see it if he _had_ been embarrassed. Which he wasn’t. No way.

“You know you want to really,” Malfoy drawled, and his not-blush was _not_ getting worse. “Night, Potter.”

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

  
  


Day 5

  
  


The sun had set, the kids were all exhausted from an afternoon shopping in Paris – Al and James had pretended not to enjoy it, but Harry knew they had really – and all Harry wanted was to sit back and relax with a glass of orange juice by the pool at the front of the villa and watch the stars come out.

“Potter. Long time no see.”

Or maybe that’s not all he wanted. Harry couldn’t deny that he was pleased to hear Malfoy’s voice after not hearing it all day again. He turned to see said aristocratic Slytherin lounging in his own sun lounger, drinking something that looked suspiciously alcoholic and... luminous green.

“What _are_ you drinking, Malfoy?”

“I’m not sure. Those rich kids next to you taught me the charm to summon it this morning.” He took a sip. “Tastes nice, though. Want one?”

“I... Sure, why not.”

Harry’s eyes did _not_ follow every elegant move of Malfoy’s arm as his summoned the drink. He pulse did _not_ quicken when he brushed his fingers against Malfoy’s hand on the glass.

He sat down on the lounger and took a sip. It tasted rather nice, actually, for all its lurid colour.

“What you been up to all day, then?” he asked.

“Scorpius went out with Asty on the yacht, so I had to entertain her friend.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “That’s just bad taste.”

“He’s quite a nice young boy, you know. Black hair, blue eyes. I think he’s Italian.” Malfoy smiled. “Shame he’s straight, that’s all I can say. All that is wasted on Asty.”

“I thought you said you were too busy for... you know.”

“Potter, you _can_ say what you mean occasionally, you know. Saying I’m too busy to have a lover will not kill you.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Harry took another sip of his drink, and then another.

“Fancy cards?” Malfoy asked after a few moments of companionable silence.

“Yeah, okay,” Harry said. “Haven’t played Exploding Snap in ages.”

Malfoy, to Harry’s chagrin, actually laughed. “I wasn’t talking about Exploding Snap. I was talking poker.”

“Poker? But I can’t play.”

“I’ll teach you. Come on, let’s go inside. It’s warmer in there.” Malfoy stood in one long, elegant movement, and Harry was certainly _not_ watching the way he walked as he was led into Malfoy’s villa. Malfoy picked the pack of cards up off the table and sat down on the sofa, gesturing for Harry to sit in the chair, which he did gratefully. They began to play, and soon Harry decided that poker was far more interesting than Exploding Snap, especially when played with Exploding™ playing cards.

A while later, Harry had lost four games, earning him four shots of Firevodka – _and whoever invented that stuff should be shot_ – as well as two cocktails, and Malfoy had only had one Firevodka, and was still sipping his first lurid green drink calmly. He raised his eyes to Harry’s and grinned as he conjured up another drink for him.

“Let’s up the stakes a bit, shall we?”

“Up the stakes?” Harry was mildly surprised that his voice was coming out as steadily as it was, especially considering that the room was swaying gently in a way he didn’t think it was supposed to. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this is reminding me of poker in the Slytherin common room, and when Blaise was in charge we were always swiftly devoid of clothing.”

“Oh.” Harry swallowed. “ _Oh._ ” Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the slow smile that Malfoy gave him as he began to deal, but Harry couldn’t help but picture the first time he had seen Malfoy in France, with his long, lean, golden body all spread out on the sun lounger. He wondered whether the urge to lick every single square inch of that body was a remembered feeling or a new one.

It was definitely the alcohol that made him reach out and grasp Malfoy’s hands, stopping him from dealing. Malfoy looked up, a slight frown on his face, and Harry swallowed again.

“If you wanted me out of my clothes, Malfoy, you should’ve said.”

Malfoy gave him that slow smile again, and maybe Harry was wrong, maybe it wasn’t the alcohol, maybe he was drunk on Malfoy, but he didn’t care. He leaned forwards and pressed his lips to Malfoy’s, and it wasn’t shocking or amazing, but they were lips, and they were warm, and they tasted of _Malfoy_.

Afterwards they lay together on the sofa, warm and wrapped in each other’s arms, and Harry sighed and laid his head against Malfoy’s bare chest.

“Well, that’s been a long time coming,” Malfoy whispered. Harry could hear the smirk in his voice, and decided he quite liked it.

“H’mmm,” he agreed, but he wasn’t entirely sure what he was agreeing too. The alcohol and the post coital warmth were surrounding him in a welcome haze, and he slipped into sleep.

  
  


Day 6

  
  


He was stiff, and he was cold. For a bleary moment he wondered where the sheets had gone before he realised that he wasn’t on a bed, he was on... well, it felt like another person. He tried to move and immediately winced. _Oh, my head. Feels like there’re two Bludgers in there, battling it out._ Slowly he opened his eyes to a familiar looking ceiling. _Why am I in the living area?_ he wondered to himself. _What possessed me to sleep_ here, _of all places?_

He shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, and it as only then he realised that things weren’t as plain and simple as he had at first thought. There _was_ a warm body beneath him and soft breathing in his ear, and when he slowly turned his head he realised why he was so uncomfortable.

Immediately his hang-over was replaced by panic. _Why the hell was I sleeping on top of Malfoy? What happened? Please, not... not what I think..._ He climbed off the blond, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles and the increased pounding in his head, but even before he realised that both he and Malfoy were naked, he knew that his pleading was futile. Him and Malfoy _had_...

_But it’s_ Malfoy, _for Merlin’s sake. Malfoy, narcissistic prick. Merlin, this was probably just a game for him, wasn’t it? He just wanted to bed the Great Harry Potter._ He thought back to the previous evening, remembered those looks Malfoy had given him and the amount of alcohol he’d consumed, and stifled a groan. Glancing around the room, he found his discarded clothing, and pulled it on quickly before stumbling out of the door and to his own villa.

_Why, Potter, Why?_ he chastised himself as he rummaged around in the cupboards for the hang-over potion he remembered seeing there on his first day. _Why did you have to do that with_ Malfoy _, of all people? Just because, after all that time at school, he decided to act nice to you, for once. Just because he happened to smile at you. Just because he got you fucking drunk! You are so stupid!_

_And we were getting on, too. I fooled myself into thinking that maybe we could be friends, that maybe we could put everything that had happened between us aside. He wasn’t a willing Death Eater, after all. If it wasn’t for this family, he would never have joined them at all. I can finally understand that properly now. It still doesn’t mean that anything between_ us _has changed though, does it?_

_Merlin, what have I done?_

  
  


Day 7

  
  


“Potter!” Malfoy’s voice reached Harry’s ears, and he groaned. _Please, Malfoy. You’ve had your fun. Just leave me alone._ Sighing, he turned to face the ex-Slytherin.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” he asked coldly. He saw the smile that was on Malfoy’s face falter and fade, and he felt a slight twinge of guilt. _Stop it. He was the one who played you so expertly. Stop feeling sorry for him._

“I just wondered where you were all yesterday,” was Malfoy’s reply. “Scorpius was bored, and I...”

The silence dragged on for a moment, and it was Harry who broke it. “We went to Mont Blanc.”

“Mont Blanc? You should’ve said something. I know that place like the back of my hand. Spent a few months there, after...”

“Malfoy, does it not occur to you that I might just want a quiet family holiday, you know, with my _family_? Maybe I don’t want you following me around all the time.”

“Well, sorry for thinking that we were friends.” There was an ugly expression on Malfoy’s face now, something that Harry hadn’t seen since school. It was amazing how much he wanted it to be gone, but anger overtook him.

“Friends? Malfoy, we are so far from friends...”

“I don’t know why I even try with you, Potter. You’re just so fucking dense...”

“No I’m not. I know exactly what your game is, and I am not having anything to do with it. You can fuck up other people’s lives as much as you want, but not mine!”

“Fucking up other people’s lives! That’s rich, coming from you!”

“What have I ever done to you, Malfoy?” Malfoy opened his mouth to shout back, but suddenly seemed to realise that they were arguing at the front of their villas, just as Harry did. He grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him into his villa, where Scorpius was sitting on the sofa eating toast. He took one look at Malfoy’s face and a quick glance at Harry’s and sped out of the front door.

Malfoy seemed to have calmed down slightly in the time it had taken to drag Harry into his villa. He turned and stared at him, folding his arms. “So what do you think my game is then?” he asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? You take advantage of Ginny’s death and get me drunk and then fuck me, and now you’re just going to leave me!”

“If I’m going to leave you, why am I having this argument with you.” That cold logic stopped Harry’s churning thoughts, and he frowned.

“I...”

Malfoy sighed. “I had a crush on you, you know.” The sudden change of subject made Harry’s frown deepen, but he didn’t interrupt. “In fourth year. That was about the time I realised I was gay. Then there was all the Death Eater stuff, and the war and everything, and crushes didn’t even come into it. By the time I felt attracted to anyone again, you’d gone off with Girl Weasley and mother had arranged the marriage with Asty. She was originally going for Daphne, you know, but the Greengrasses didn’t want their first born daughter married to me. They didn’t mind their second, though. Truth be told, Asty is less annoying than Daph.

“And then... I’d see you around at work, at those fucking parties, and the damned crush came back. Only, well, it was more than a crush, you know. I’ve felt attracted to many other men, but none more so that you. And in this past week, I’ve got to know you better, and for some strange reason I _like_ you, Potter, and I’m sorry if I thought that you might like me too.” He scowled.

Harry was struck dumb for a long moment. _He’s... he’s not fucking around with me after all? Merlin, I... He actually wants_ me _, some forty year old man with three kids, and it can’t be because of the Boy Who Lived tripe, because he never cared about that, he’s probably one of the few people who wouldn’t. I was reading it all wrong, everything, I..._

“Why the drink?” he finally found himself asking stupidly.

“It’s not my fault you were crap at poker, Potter. You agreed on the Firevodka too.”

“And the strip poker?”

To his surprise, Malfoy blushed. “Maybe not one of my better ideas. I just... I don’t drink very often, Asty gives me hell if I do, and I...”

“You were drunk? On _that?_ ” Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“Maybe not _just_ on that.” It was said quietly, but Harry heard, and his laughter stopped. _Oh._

“I’m sorry, Draco,” he whispered, and it was only when Malfoy lifted his head up in surprise that he realised he’d never called him Draco before. Ever. “I thought...”

“Yeah, well, I can’t really blame you, can I?” Malfoy sighed. “I’ll see you in September, I suppose.”

“No.” Harry surprised himself at the vehemence in his voice, and he regretted it when he saw the pain skitter across Malfoy’s face. He wondered just how much hearing that hurt him, to actually allow it to show. “No,” he said more kindly. “I want to see you before then.”

“What?”

“How about dinner some time?” The happiness that spread across Malfoy’s face made Harry smile, before Malfoy schooled it into a look of bored indifference.

“Well, I don’t know,” Malfoy drawled. “I have a very busy schedule, you know, Potter.” He smirked slightly. “And it will cost you.”

Harry stood up and went to stand by Malfoy’s side. There was a flicker of surprise in those grey eyes before Harry pulled him close, and it didn’t take long for Malfoy to relax in his arms. “I think it might be worth it,” Harry said.  



End file.
